Two hours before that, while his wife was introducing the innocent teenager to one of the dogs he sought, Rodney found his feet near to exploding, so far had he followed the black sheriff through the fields and wooded hills around Pickford's Meadows. But Clete's diligence in seeking out the wild dog pack had increased proportionally to the size of the reward that Jim Devereaux had offered him just a few days before. Though Clete was obviously no great tracker, he did show wonderful conditioning. The man was a mountain of well-hardened muscle, and Rodney knew that he had spent several years in the marines, and had seen combat somewhere. He was a good pistol and rifle shot and he seemed to laugh at the idea of fatigue, carrying his weapons and field gear, while Rodney's slender frame struggled along lugging his recording and camera equipment.
Still, he was not sure where all this effort was leading them, or him. Back home, the bank was sending nasty letters about missed mortgage payments, a situation that had not originated with their coming to Pickford's Meadows but had rather been exacerbated by the unproductive time spent on this wild goose chase – or rather, wild dog chase. Things had been bad for Rodney and his young wife for several months and their home was near foreclosure. It was their dreadful financial state that had driven him to pursue this story about dogs that raped women, but the rumors had not been born out. None of the women rumored to have been set upon sexually by this Lobo and his canine companions would talk about it. Priscilla Devereaux was in the mental ward of the county hospital with injuries no one would talk about either, and there was no reliable way to document a dog attack, though her father had raised the reward sky high the day after she had been admitted. And, damn it all to hell, the dog sightings had nearly ceased completely the day he and Tanya had come to town, as if something about their presence had sent them into hiding. (Of course, he had no way of knowing that many times when he and Clete were out hunting them, the dogs were in the warm and hospitable company of Tanya and Liz Clark.)
The pressures of his disorganized life had left him exhausted, and he hadn't had time for days to visit Liz Clark and keep their little clandestine affair spinning. He knew it was wrong and that he should be giving his all to his lovely young wife, but Liz's pure sexual expertise kept him going back for more. Just thinking about her blowjobs caused him to shiver.
But today, Clete swore they were getting close, up here in the hills behind the Mitchell ranch. The big sheriff, tireless for all his size, kept his nose down, seeming to sniff the ground, almost like a dog himself.
Clete had learned a lot in the last couple of months about tracking, through trial and error, though mostly error. He had assiduously avoided bringing in a professional hunter, for he had no desire to share the reward with anyone else, especially now that Jim Devereaux had made it fifty thousand a head. He was positive that one of them had raped Priscilla, and it made him smile to think of how she had had a taste of her own degrading medicine, after hoping for the worst for DesirЋe, and doing the most to foster it.
But he had to get results now, he knew, for the town council was pressuring him, Devereaux was calling him two or three times a day – Priscilla wasn't out of hospital yet – and several citizens had called him up complaining. John Proctor's ugly old wife had been scared by the beast, and his daughter had been raped in plain sight of her three female companions one night after a movie when they had taken a shortcut across a meadow. Though he deemed Proctor's daughter Darla lucky for the attention – with her looks it was probably the only cock she would ever know – he still had to answer the calls. Still, he was not sure that the four girls had not invented the episode just to get attention and excitement into their dull, wallflower-girl lives.
Rodney was just about to begin complaining about his feet, when Clete suddenly turned, whipping his finger up to his lips. The young reporter stopped still as a statue, his whole body quivering with excitement. Clete had never done this, but Rodney had never seen the sheriff gesture him to urgent silence before. He had to admit that the tracks they were following did seem to be fresher and easier to read than any he had yet seen.
The black man was glad that they found themselves downwind, for were it otherwise they would never manage to find the dogs before they were detected. The late summer breeze would carry away their scent and the small sounds of their approach. They avoided stepping on any dry leaves or twigs, keeping their feet on rocks and bare earth as they moved with the utmost slowness through the trees. Rodney kept his camera poised for action, for one good picture could get him a commission to cover the full story for a national newspaper or magazine.
It was as much a surprise for them as for the dogs when they suddenly moved into a clearing where the four wild animals were sharing out the meat from a lamb they appeared to have killed. Clete's rifle was not even at the ready when they surprised the four oversized German Shepherds crouched savagely over the carcass, their jowls smeared with blood and their yellow eyes blazing, like something out of an atmospheric horror film. Each one of the combatants, four dogs and one man, froze in a galvanic pose, a pose that Rodney caught perfectly on film from behind and a few feet to the right of the sheriff. The tableau was fixed on the film forever, the bloody lamb, the snarling dogs ranged around it in a way no artist could hope to devise, and the hulking, powerful form of the black sheriff, just bringing his rifle to bear.
Rodney's camera whirred efficiently, advancing the film, capturing the whole thing twice a second, changing position as the dogs moved toward their most hated human, the rifle coming up, the fire jumping from the muzzle. The second largest, and huge he was, darted to the right of the men, but the rifle had discharged accidentally, without proper aim, and it was only blind luck that the bullet penetrated flesh. Blood flew and Dusty yelped, superficially wounded, but Clete wasted no time and slapped the lever of the 30 caliber Winchester down and back, raising it to aim again for a kill shot. Rodney's heart leapt as he contemplated the violent death of the dogs, one by one, to be taken into his camera. The film was spending fast, but he always carried two cameras as a precaution.
Dusty should have been a corpse worth fifty thousand dollars, but Lobo, darting out from the men's right, closed his powerful jaws over the barrel and wrenched it from Clete's hands. Clete's grip had been relaxed for the shot or even Lobo would not have been able to tear it from his iron fingers, but the delay gave the dogs a chance to get away, Dusty trailing drops of blood from a painful flesh wound under his belly.
Clete's eyes were blazing as he turned, then pursued, and Rodney followed in his own, slower way. The big sheriff disappeared from sight into the bush, but within a few minutes, he returned.
"Fuck it! They got away!" he growled. "Fat lot of help you were!"
Rodney was taken aback. "What could I have done? No bullets come out of these cameras."
Clete's eyes narrowed. "Did you get any pictures?"
The reporter nodded. "You bet your ass, and they're some good ones too. Worth a fortune."
The sheriff nodded. "Yeah, yeah, and I want copies of all of them. The council will want to see them. And Jim Devereaux."
Rodney drew back, his face showing his shock. "These are mine. They belong to me. I have copyright." He clutched his camera tightly. "My livelihood depends on these photos. My story…"
Clete's hand shot out and closed on the other man's slender throat. "I don't give a fuck about all that. Just get them developed and show them to those people. My livelihood depends on that. Understand, shutter bug?" And he gave Rodney a shove.
The young reporter rubbed his throat where the sheriff had left red fingerprints.
"Yes, I understand. But-but I keep possession."
Clete was already retracing their steps back to his car. He was furious at having lost the dogs without a single kill, without a single check for a five with four zeros. The reward for just one of the raping animals would change his life forever, and the whole two hundred thousand would completely make it for him, his marriage with Nancy and his affair with DesirЋe on the side. How he wished it could be the other way around, but right now, DesirЋe was chained to Mark Denning, body and soul, even though her body had betrayed her several times.
He dropped Rodney at his own car, and said a brief so long, not waiting a moment. He was disappointed, but excited. He had actually, really truly, tracked the animals, and he knew he could do it again. After so many weeks of hunting them, he had finally drawn first blood, and suddenly the reward looked like much more than a dream. A nice house, a good car, fine clothes, and Nancy on his arm.
Damn, but he was horny all of a sudden! That taste of success and the excitement of the blood lust that was natural to him had sparked a flame centered in his giant male member and heavy, swelling testicles. If Nancy didn't get pregnant today, then there was something wrong with her. He was so hyped up, so frustrated, yet elated. He had to fuck a woman, and fuck her good.
He sped over the dirt road in the direction of Nancy's house, his cock itching for the irresistible caress of her tight, hot pussy. And then, as he crested a hill, he almost crashed into a car sitting askew in the road. It was easy to recognize the cute little German car that DesirЋe's father had bought her for her twentieth birthday. But where was the darling girl? He looked in all directions, and then began to follow the road. She was out here somewhere, and he was worried about her.
Billy Canning drew his thoroughly spent and sore cock from DesirЋe's quiescent vagina, feeling Sam's flop out at the same time. The girl had been an incredible fuck, and he had enjoyed her body more than any other, ever. Her body was cooling now as she slept the sleep of the dead, her sweat drying on her without odor, while millions of his and Sam's sperm invaded her vulnerable womb. Shakily, he got up from the bed and looked down at her, seeing Sam coming around himself. It was time to finish their business here and get going.
The video tapes had long since played out, so he stored the used ones and inserted new. He didn't want to miss catching what would come next, for that was what they had come for. From the leather bag he took the big hunting knife with the razor-sharp blade. It would be beautiful, cutting her throat while she was in a stupor of sexual satiation, slumbering innocently. He would draw the blade across her throat, making it bite deep, severing the arteries and windpipe while her hot blood pumped out onto the same old sheets where she had just been bred like a prize heifer. Then she would be cut up, and her head hid in the sheriff's office.
Billy moved forward slowly, hefting the heavy knife, so big that it resembled a scimitar.
Sam was waking up, rubbing his eyes, his hand resting on DesirЋe's breast. He saw Billy beginning to bend over her, bringing out the knife to lay the blade against her tender throat. Suddenly Sam understood that Billy, in spite of the joy the girl had given him, still meant to kill her. Sam, now strangely emotionally tied to the lovely girl, forestalled Billy.
"What, you mean you're going to do it with me here on the bed, cover me in blood?"
Billy looked taken aback. "Uh, uh, no, uh, I was just getting ready."
"You still want to snuff her? After all this, you still want to snuff her?"
"Well, yeah, why not? There's the buyer for the film in Europe. Lots of dough on that."
Sam was grasping at straws. He, like many men that knew the lovely, young woman, had fallen for her, loved her. Now Billy wanted to kill that love, as impractical as it was. "But, man, like, you've probably knocked her up. You'd be killing your own baby."
Billy shrugged. "Yeah, so what?" he had aborted enough of his own girlfriends' babies that he would not be worried about this one.
"Man, her husband's going to the top in politics. You could have a baby in the state capital or the US Congress."
Billy paused. His hate for the world and for politicians had not begun with his brother's murder, and Mark Denning, whose actions as a local lawmaker had hampered his drug peddling business, was a man he particularly hated. The idea of planting a strange baby in his wife's womb, like a human cuckoo, appealed immediately to his perverse and selfish nature. To Billy, Mark Denning needed to be punished for hampering his private enterprise in pharmacopoeia. Then, something else occurred to him.
"But what if it's your baby?"
"Well, there's no real way of knowing until the kid gets big enough to resemble its father, but wouldn't it be a kick to plant your seed in Denning's garden?"
Billy thought, his unbalanced, drug-riddled mind going over the possibilities. "But the buyer in Europe wanted a snuff film."
"You'll have to disappoint him. We don't need the money that bad, do we? Just tell him the girl OD'ed before she could be set up. I'm sure he's had girls get away from him before."
Billy thought some more. "Don't we need the money?"
Sam shook his head, thinking fast, for DesirЋe's sake. He saw her lying there, pretending to be asleep but now hearing everything. He saw the tears running from her eyes as she tried to prepare herself for death.
"We don't need it that much. All we gotta do is get out of town, go over to the falls for a few nights and sell some shit. We can snuff someone later. There's always more bitches."
Billy looked down at DesirЋe's lovely form. "She is one beautiful bitch, isn't she?"
"She is. Be a shame to kill her. A girl like this isn't born every day."
Billy was still not convinced. His mind was unhinged from his brother's death and overuse of his own product. He had wanted to spill blood today, and this girl was available and close to the source of his personal irritation – Clete. "But – I still want to cut her up."
Sam saw Billy's jerky eye movements and knew that it would be almost impossible to appeal to reason. And, at that last sentence, he saw DesirЋe's body flinch and start to quiver. He cast his gaze about for something that would inspire him, but found nothing until he looked out the open window.
"Fucking hell, look at that!"
Billy looked out the window and saw the plume of dust behind Clete's car as he moved at speed up the road toward the house. "That son of a bitch! We can kill him now."
Sam shook his head. "No way, man. All we've got is that little Walther and you can't hit anything with that if it isn't standing next to you. He's a good shot, and you aren't. Hell no, count me out if you want a gunfight. Let's sneak out of here and get to the car."
Billy was indecisive, but the adrenaline of fear was clearing his mind. "What about all this gear?"
Sam thought quickly, watching the approach of the car still two miles away. Clete would be here soon and there was no way they could explain their being here with DesirЋe in bed. The jealous Clete would make short work of them surely. "Hide the tripods in a closet and take the cameras with us."
"What about her? She'll talk. I've got to whack her."
"No, no, no, man," Sam hurried to say. "We can't kill anyone here today. We've left too much physical evidence already. Sperm, hair, pubes, prints – Do you want to clean up all the fingerprints here? Can you remember everything you've touched? He's the sheriff, her husband's a politician. It'd be manhunt of the year. Let her live, man. She's only a girl, nineteen or twenty. You can catch Clete some other time, with his pants down."
Billy fidgeted, and Sam took his arm. "Come on, man. He'll be here soon, and then you will have a gunfight on your hands, and I promise you'll lose."
The two fleeing rapists picked up the larger equipment and hurriedly stashed it in one of the closets, then turned with their cameras and started toward the stairs.
Clete parked in front of the house and looked around. He couldn't imagine DesirЋe being anywhere else in the vicinity, after finding her car just down the road. Other tracks in the dust showed that another car had driven her away, but he had lost those tracks on the harder surface nearby and saw no other vehicle here. What was going on?
Clete tried the door, found it locked, and used a credit card to open the old lock. The entry hall was empty and appeared undisturbed since he had last been here, the day Nancy had been raped by Lobo. Then, he heard a sound upstairs, a female voice, he thought.
What the hell was going on?
Because they had spent so much time arguing about DesirЋe's fate, the two young men had delayed their escape past the point of no return. As they saw the sheriff begin to mount the curved staircase, Sam motioned to Billy to go the other way. They moved silently past the first bedroom where DesirЋe was coming slowly to life, moaning sorrowfully, thinking that they had gone. A few doors down, they closed themselves into another room and waited. And while they stood there in fear, Billy fumbled with the small pistol he had brought.
Clete reached the top of the stairs and heard the rustling of sheets in the first bedroom. It was an eerie place, this mansion, completely furnished yet unoccupied. When the well had gone dry some years previously, the family had moved down to another, smaller house on the estate, fully intending to return when the work could be accomplished to bring running water to the property, leaving all the antique furniture in place. He and Nancy had used it for their own special trysting place, but he would not have expected anyone else in this community ever to come up here uninvited.
The family had been given a bid for piping in the water, but since it appeared to be a huge expense, they had not initiated work yet. Nancy's uncle, with whom she lived now, since her parents' death, was an heir and not the most resourceful fellow in the world, having inherited everything without first earning it, and so the work had been postponed for a long time. During this past summer, Clete and Nancy had often come up here to make love. This was their place, so why had DesirЋe come up here?
DesirЋe was just rising to her hands and knees to look out the window, wondering who it was that had scared off her two abductors, inadvertently treating Clete to an intimate view of her bottom's open cleft and the hair-fringed split of her wet, sperm-flooded pussy. At the sight, Clete's breath caught in his throat.
"DesirЋe," he said quietly.
DesirЋe gasped and turned on the bed, sitting on her heels with her knees pressed together in front of her, holding the big, round, white melons in her dainty hands, the ripe, pink nipples peeking out between her fingers. She was terrified! Terrified of him, even though she knew she had had sex with him twice before and remembered the last time vividly, remembered his huge, womb-piercing cock that had brought her to many orgasms over the desk in his back office while her husband Mark had stood outside in the front office. He had coerced her with that awful video tape, and she could not say that she was surprised to learn that he had murdered the brother of one of her abductors.
What would happen to her if Clete found out that she knew that he had committed murder? He would kill her as well, she was certain. He was an evil, bloodthirsty man and he would surmise that she knew about the murder if he found out that she was here with the other two. Yes, if he found out that she had been here with them, having full unprotected sex with them, then he would count her as being in cahoots with them. No, she could never report this rape to him, nor even let him know that she knew of them. For her own safety now, she hoped sincerely now that they had got away clean.
"What's going on, DesirЋe?" Clete asked, his eyes devouring her nakedness. He remembered that she had stolen that incriminating video tape from under his nose, yet once again, here she was, naked and vulnerable before him. Very strange. "What are you doing here, Dez?"
The wide-eyed girl seemed to choke for a moment, and then she said, "Waiting for you, Clete."
"For me?"
"Yes, I-I wanted to see you, but-but I was too shy to call," she stammered.
A big, white smile split Clete's black face. Just looking at her he felt his loins burning. Instantly, he began unbuttoning his uniform shirt and loosening his belt.
DesirЋe's wide, blue eyes took in the sight of Clete's body as he bared it quickly, and with horror she saw the two other men standing behind him in the doorway, the crazy one holding the pistol, pointing it at Clete's back. No, no, no! If they killed Clete, they would have to kill her as well! Or, more likely, she would be hit by the bullet as, at this range, it passed straight through him.
Behind Clete, Sam and Billy watched the other man strip, revealing massive muscle. His back was broad and rippling with sinews, his deltoids as round and defined as if they were shot-puts, and his equine buttocks was exaggeratedly round, massively developed in the way only his kind could. His thighs were corded muscle nearly as thick as one of the young man's waist. And his penis! It was over two and a half inches thick and ten inches long, the mushrooming tip emerging from the foreskin to flare aggressively like the head of an angry cobra. The shaft was knurled with purplish veins and the urethral tube running underneath was a visible bulge leading up to the pink-lipped hole from which his own life-giving, pearly baby cream would spill like the flow of a horse. To compliment the monstrous shaft, there hung beneath it in a bristling black scrotum two testicles as large as plums, throbbing with sperm.
DesirЋe had never seen Clete's penis from this revealing angle, and the size of it terrified her. From her past experience she knew that he fully intended to put it inside her tender vagina, and she shivered as his pants dropped to a puddle around his ankles. He stepped forward out of them and toward the bed, his gross intentions more than obvious by his state of undress and the monstrous priapus that waved in front of him with each pace.
DesirЋe froze in terror. Yes, she had had that huge shaft inside her before, but she couldn't imagine now actually having ever been able to accommodate it. She had never seen it in this perspective or quite so clearly, and she was sure it had grown. Iron hard with intent, it arced from side to side with his walking, throbbing with a life of its own, pulsing with its own individual life-giving, womb impregnating power. As the cyclopean, anaconda-like creature advanced, seeming to drag its powerfully muscled possessor along behind it, DesirЋe's thoughts went to her husband Mark, the light of her life. She so much wanted to be with him now, to feel the comfort of his embrace after this afternoon's unwanted debauchery, but to ever see him again she must preserve her life. To be separated from him by even the unyielding wall of mortal oblivion was more than she could contemplate.
With a lethal weapon pointed at Clete's back – and at her – she knew that she must somehow diffuse the situation before bullets could fly. If they killed Clete and left her alive somehow, she would be incriminated in an affair with the black sheriff, which would be intolerable to Mark, both from a personal and political point of view. The headlines would ruin him, and shame her parents immeasurably. The effect would be equal were she to die in a hail of bullets. Or, should Clete discover their presence and succeed in getting to his gun and killing the two other men, he would probably kill her as well, knowing that she had had sex with them and surmising that she knew that he had murdered the brother of one of them. Of course, there was the possibility that Clete would let her live with the knowledge of three homicides, however, that was not something on which she wanted to bet her life and her future with Mark.
With Mark? Oh, how had she managed to get into this terrible position of being unfaithful to him, last week with Clete in his office, and today, in this mothballed Pace mansion with these too hard-thrusting partners in sex whose names she did not even know. Was there any way Mark could ever forgive her, or forget that she had done these vile things? She feared that the only way to preserve their relationship was to see that he never did find out.
Holding out her arms to the advancing black man, she looked past him to the two men standing behind him in the doorway, signaling desperately with her eyes that they should make good their escape. Still, they did not move, and finally DesirЋe was forced to fold her arms around the big man's bull neck and turn her head to kiss him, feeling his tongue go wetly into her mouth, his thick, sensual lips sucking onto her own. Her nostrils knew the strong, savage smell of him as she felt both his big hands curl under her plump buttocks, and fingertips dipping into the crease of her sperm-flooded vagina, the massive bulk of his cock heavy against her belly.
"You must have been waiting for me, Dez," he said against her cheek. "Your pussy's as wet and sloppy as a bowl of cornflakes."
DesirЋe cringed at the simile, but his touch on her clitoris and vagina sent bolts of desire through her and she kissed him again, with the dual purpose of shutting him up and allowing the other two to get away. After a long and breathless moment, she pressed her cheek next to Clete's and found them still there, a smirking look on the face of the crazy one, and a rather hurt look on the face of the other. She and the sheriff were kneeling face to face on the bed and now she felt him cup his hands under the buttocks, lifting her and tipping her back so that her legs were forced to part. He maneuvered her tender pussy slit over the upstanding prong of his penis, and began lowering her on it. She fixed her eyes on Sam's face as she felt the broad tip stretch her tiny vagina, which opened reluctantly and admitted the dangerous instrument into her hot and quivering depths.
She gasped, feeling her cunt expanded just as far as it had been shortly before when Sam had squeezed his cock into the same delicate sheath at the same time as Billy's was thrusting and occupying it. Sam saw her eyes open wide in shock, the same shock she had felt the last time Clete had had her in a similar, undesired situation.
And then Clete began moving her up and down on his cock, raising her weight with his strong hands and arms, and then allowing gravity to carry her slowly down, thrusting upward with his mighty hips. Sam saw the glistening black buttocks hollow as the sheriff pushed upward into the tender cavern of her vagina, saw the girl's mouth open each time the huge shaft filled her. He saw her wide, blue eyes gradually close as her cunt relaxed and adapted to the massive presence inside it. He heard her grunt each time that it reached to her very womb, pushing her cervix back ahead of it, saw her shapely calves pressing his undulating buttocks, her ankles locking behind them.
Damn her! Sam thought, gritting his teeth. She's nothing but a slut that'll fuck anyone, even dogs. He had seen a certain affection in her eyes when he was plunging his cock into her hot cunt, giving pleasure to them both, but he could see that now it meant nothing. She loved the man whose cock was in her at the time, it seemed, and Sam meant nothing to her, he could see. Her lovely eyes, face, and body had aroused something more tender in him – she had that power over men – but he saw that it meant nothing to her. She could turn on with any guy. He seethed with anger and disappointment so that he almost lost control of himself, his red vision narrowing so much that he almost failed to see Billy raising the gun again. It was nearly extended to fire before Sam caught himself, and Billy's wrist, and pulled his friend back out in the hall.
"What are you doing, you dumb shit?" Sam hissed, then stopped, afraid that Clete might have heard them, but the squeaking of bedsprings, and the grunts and groans and sighs of the two hotly fucking lovers in the next room seemed to be covering their verbal exchange.
"Man, don't you see?" Billy said. "She ain't goin' to be pregnant with nobody but that big nigger. Who cares about her now? You?"
"Yeah, yeah, she's a slut for sure," said Sam, working hard to reclaim his own reason. "But we can't do it here and now. She's a politician's slut and he's the sheriff and we've still got physical evidence lying all over the place. That hasn't changed just because she likes fucking the sheriff." He patted his friend on the shoulders with both hands. "Not today. Maybe we can use her to set up the black bastard when things are safer, but not today."
Billy closed his eyes and tried to dominate himself. He had spent the afternoon fucking most of the aggression out of himself, and perhaps that was why he allowed himself to be led along. He nodded and they picked up their cameras and moved toward the stairs again, passing the open bedroom door.
DesirЋe was on her back now, her blonde hair fanned out on the pillow, her thighs lifted high and wide on either side of Clete's thrusting hips, the great pendulous sac of his balls swinging resoundingly between her spread buttocks to batter her tight, pink anus, where both the other young men had fucked her. The huge black cock had her pussy spread into a wet, red O-shape, making lovingly musical, liquid sounds in accompaniment to the plunging, joy-giving shaft. Her eyes were closed and she was kissing him deeply, their tongues in each other's mouths. Her big tits bulged out to the side where his muscular chest flattened them and their bodies gleamed with hot love-sweat.
Sam stopped briefly as they broke their kiss and she turned her face toward them. Her eyes half opened, misty blue with passion, saw them and half smiled a farewell, and then a particularly deep thrust of the black penis into her wet and tender hair-fringed vagina drew a wail of ecstasy from her and her nails clawed urgently at Clete's as she pumped her avid love-hole faster and harder over the veiny, shining male member.
With her two abductors now departed, DesirЋe could concentrate on reaching the orgasm that she needed. Clete's sinewy, powerful body pressed her down, his hips pounding her into the mattress as his cock slid pleasurably up and down in her sperm-flooded pussy. Her healthy and passionate young body, denied her owns husband's attentions for so long, had enjoyed countless orgasms today, but now the black man's enormous penis was bringing her to another, heightened state of sexual release. She felt it beginning to bloom inside her loins, from her clenching anus to her deeply split vagina, to her battered, burning clitoris and her tingling, pink nipples and hot, kissing lips. She felt her feminine passage flood with her love juices as Clete felt her gush against his pubis in that particular way of hers that few women could do.
He rose up and looked into her face as he felt her begin to quake, her vagina clutching at his loving cock, and she opened her eyes. He loved her this way, in a bed, face to face, like real lovers, and her eyes spoke her passion. Perhaps it was just a fleeting love, like some feline creature being fed and petted and gratified sensually, but he was sure it was love. He was giving her something she needed and something inside her appreciated it.
DesirЋe gasped, her body jerking, her thighs gripping his hips and her cunt squeezing his cock with desperation, and he saw her tits jerking with her orgasm. Her pussy flooded his cock and balls with the hot liquid expression of her joy and Clete felt his own climax crash upon him, burning like napalm behind the root of his cock as he felt the semen gush up through it to the tip and erupt outward into her vagina like molten lava, searing her delicate walls and mingling with what Sam and Billy had already poured into her. Clete gave a deep grunt and groan, and DesirЋe answered similarly in a higher, clearer voice, feeling the fluid pour into her and inundate her receptive tubes. Her orgasm went on for a long time, long after Clete had collapsed over her and his great penis had been stilled inside her.
And then, they both lay still, struggling for breath, glowing with satisfaction, the huge penis still inside her yet slowly softening, his great testicles nestled, throbbing, between her warm, parted buttocks. It was a long time before either of them came around to the real world, and when they did, it seemed to happen simultaneously. They lay quietly for a while, rubbing each other's wet flesh, slowly separating until his cock popped free of her sucking vagina. His fingers brushed slowly through her blonde pubic hair, probed gently into her wet pussy and below into her raw anus, sore from the penetrating cocks of her two abductors.
After a long time, Clete regained his strength and sat up, dressed, tucked his great cock into his pants and buttoned his shirts over his massive chest. Wordlessly, reluctant to break the spell, he helped her dress and took her to the car, failing to notice the tracks of the car that had brought her there. Within a few minutes, they were back at her car and after seeing that she could drive, he followed her back to town, turning off only after she had turned into her own driveway.
By the time she was through her doorway, her conscience was tearing at her heart. What had she become? Not only had she responded in the most disgusting way to two abducting rapists, but just to protect them she had given herself to a man she hated and feared. What frightened her most was the way she had responded to him, again, after he had lewdly lowered her unresisting pussy onto his cock. Was she a slave to her desires born of emotional deprivation? Yes, most certainly, for Mark was shunning her, and her body and soul were starved for affection. Mark, oh, Mark, my darling! Please don't do this to me!
The phone rang and she picked it up.
"DesirЋe? This is Mark, sweetheart. I miss you. Could you come up here to Sid Buchanan's tonight? There's an important party here and I need you with me. And I need you."